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Please, Don't Be Afraid of Me

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He hated the look of fear amongst his fellow nations as they stared at him in silent horror after America's presentation of the Canadian. The nations pulled away from Canada and backed away some before turning back to America. England spoke after clearing his throat.

"Ah. Th-Thank you, America. We will be sure to watch over our people. We will make sure that no harm will come out of this." America gave them a grin as he shut down the video of a pale, lanky figure of a tall and scary Canada. He gave a thumbs up and struck a heroic pose.

"No problem, bro! After all, I'm the hero! It's my job to protect innocent civilians from monsters!"

Monster. Monster. Monster. Monster!

Canada woke up in a cold sweat. He gasped and clutched at his chest. His heart was beating erratically at just the mere thought of the horrible memory.

He wiped the sweat off his brow and shakily got out of bed. He nearly fell over at the feeling of weakness in his knees. He held onto the bed post at his side. His eyes settled on the mirror at the other side of his room. He was skinnier than he should be. He was weak and pale and sickly looking. Though, he guessed, that's what you're supposed to look like when you're a Wendigo.

His body was tall and lanky. Sharp horns protruded from his skull and his eyes were of black sclera and irises dilated bright with the colours of the Aurora Borealis, his pupils no longer of use in the dark. His teeth sharp and gastly. His long fingers and toes clawed to the tips. His blond hair, now dirty and unkempt, the long curl in front seemed to bend in two. His skin was near gray and it hugged his bones tight, dipping into crevices and holes. He looked like… a monster.

That's what he was. The rest of the world had said so.

His once family and friends were now enemies. At least, that's what they had seen him as. Canada liked to think that they were still connected some way. However, he couldn't really think of it like that anymore. The world had cut their ties off with him a few decades ago. His people were confused and distraught at finding that they could no longer trade and be allowed in other countries. Though, that didn't stop his people from being happy. They continued to live happily amongst their homeland. They lived off the land and made their own supplies and machinery now. They no longer had the need, nor the want, to be connected to the rest of the world.

They were a peaceful country. They refused to fight, even if they had a new reputation of being terrible and having a strong sense of blood lust. Canada's people were not like that, no. They were kind and polite, like always. Even after their forced isolation. The Cut. That's what they had called it then and still referred to it now.

They didn't hate the rest of the world. How could they when they had treated them so well before the Cut? The Canadians believed that the world had simply gotten tired of them and left them be. The Canadians were sort of grateful for the let alone, but it didn't stop the sense of betrayal being set in their hearts of the sudden accusations being placed upon them.

Canada shook his head as he headed towards the bathroom, walking on all four long limbs. He stopped at the doorway and bent down as his body shifted. The sounds of bones popping and liquid flowing quietly signaled the transformation. He gasped as his body finished shifting and stood back up on his legs. He looked at the mirror above his sink. He had gotten a bit taller, thanks to his people taking over a few recently discovered large islands to the north. They were filled with plenty of resources. Oil and minerals, along with other needed supplies and resources. Of course, the rest of the world didn't know. They would never know of him now being the largest country in the world.

He took pride in his people cheering and celebrating even brighter and better on Canada Day with the discovery of new land and gaining a greater economy than before.

His body had gained a lot more muscle from self growth and preservation. His eyes now not being just blue violet, but now also having small speckles of turquoise and red swirled within his irises. He had gained a large scar across his back that swung over his shoulder and down his chest, thanks to the Cut.

His people had prospered and were now a stronger people. Full of power, a greater strength now adorning his military and weaponry. Though they would never use them for anything selfish and against their common morals. They hated fighting, instead choosing to make peace. Even after the Cut.

Canada sighed and smiled at himself a little before turning to take a shower. It had been a while since he had done so, previously just being a small period of self hatred. Not on Canada, but on him - Matthew. He had been feeling down. June was coming to an end and his birthday would show up in just a few days.

He had never felt so lonely. Sure, most people forgot his birthday, but there were still some who told him happy birthday and celebrated it with him. The ones mainly being America, France, and England. Even though they forgot most of the time too, Canada was happy any attention he received on his birthday that was always shadowed in America's birthday. Even more so now. No one ever talked to him anymore. It was worse that there was a meeting with his brother on his birthday weekend. Canada's birthday being this upcoming Saturday was a terrible gift he had received.

The governments of Canada and America had recently decided that they should start up trade again, though only on limited items such as natural resources and machinery. This would be the first meeting Canada would have with anyone after the Cut several decades ago. Not just any random meeting. A meeting with the country that had started the Cut. Canada's very own twin brother and closest friend, America.

Canada had never felt so betrayed and so much despair as when his brother discovered his Wendigo form. He took a video of the Canadian and decided that he would take charge of being a hero and "saving the world". He showed off the terrifying form of the Northern nation to the rest of the world at the next world meeting. Clear pride displayed on his face as the world came to him and asked for his assistance in keeping the "monster" at bay. Canada never blamed his brother. He knew America was just scared and cared about helping others. He never yelled at America in anger or was upset with him, because he knew his twin's heart was in the right place.

Now, here they both were. Stuck in a situation that neither wanted to be in, but they knew that they had to do or otherwise their bosses would get upset.

Canada had started packing his bag once he finished his shower. His hands shaky with a bit of fear and excitement. He'd get to leave and visit another country after so long. Isolation wasn't really the best thing to go through, but it gave him a lot of time to relax and watch over the people of his country more easily without the concerns of the rest of the world on his back.

 

Canada was on his flight to D.C. that Friday in which he would get a ride from the airport to America's house, where they would hold the small meeting for the time being. Canada could barely contain himself as he hopped into the black SUV. He would get to see his brother after such a long time. He could see through the car window that America's economy was still going strong. A few new buildings had replaced old ones from what he could gather from his memory of his last visit to D.C. The people seemed to be just as crazy and amazing as ever. Canada smiled. His brother had been doing well. He sat back in his seat as they passed the city to a small private suburb for the large mansion that was America's house.

Canada stepped out of the car as it dropped him off at the driveway. He thanked the driver and closed the door before heading to the front door, duffel bag and work case in hand. He was dressed in a black suit, a red tie around his neck and white handkerchief in his suit pocket. Black dress shoes nice and polished. His hair was pulled back in a sort of messy ponytail, the curl hanging loose in front of his face. Lips soft with chapstick and a small blush of excitement adorning his facial features.

Canada stared at the tall, oak double doors. He took a deep breath and allowed a small smile to slip on his face as he knocked on the door with strong knuckles. He stood patiently as he waited for an answer. A clang could be heard as he heard cursing behind the door. He chuckled as he could clearly picture an America clumsily getting to the door.

His face lit up at the sight of his near reflection in the now open doorway. America looked the same as ever. His eyes still the beautiful shade of cerulean blue and his skin a lovely shade of tanned peach. Blond hair that was a little brighter than his adorned his face, his cowlick standing proud. His glasses, or - as America called them - Texas, hanging off his nose slightly. A dark blue suit and black dress shoes being his outfit for today's meeting.

"… Who are you?" Canada never thought he would miss such a question. One that had plagued his life before the Cut. He welcomed it with open arms. He laughed shyly a bit.

"It's me, Canada. Your brother?" Canada had seemingly gotten less anxious around other people and had become a little more outgoing during his isolation. It was a surprise to the American before him.

"M… Matthew?" Canada nodded at his brother's question.

"It's nice to see you again, Alfred. It's been so long." America's eyes were wide. He backed up, opening the door a but wider.

"Y-Yeah. … Wow." He watched as Canada walked though the door, his neck craned up just a tiny bit to face the Northern nation. "You've… gotten taller." He looked down at the suit. He could see that the sleeves and pants fitted tighter around the new body underneath. "And more muscley." He flinched at the rich laugh that left Canada's mouth. He sounded way different than before. Older, more powerful. Yet the same.

"I guess so. My people have been doing well. Though I'm sure we can discuss that more in the meeting." Canada walked behind America after he shut the door.

"Ah… right." Canada took notice of the slight shaking of the American and his heart sank. America was still afraid of him. He chose to ignore this and move on with the meeting. He sat at one side of the small table, placing his work case on top. America followed suit on the opposite side.

They stayed that way for a while, staring at the table top and fiddling with the papers in their hands. It was only a few minutes after that Canada cleared his throat.

"Right. Shall we get started?" America jumped a bit and looked up to his brother before nodding silently, taking out a pen and pad.

"Yeah. I'll start with some questions and you can answer. Then we can alternate. Good?" Canada nodded with a smile.

"Sounds good to me, frère."